


warm soup

by alberthammondjr



Category: The Strokes
Genre: M/M, Self-Insert, because it means you can write post-op recovery fluff fics, i also love cutthroat kitchen and i love the food network, i love being trans, it's extremely gay if one of them is trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7699381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alberthammondjr/pseuds/alberthammondjr





	warm soup

“Looks like you’re finally up.”

Those were the first words I heard as my eyes fluttered open, spotting Albert holding a wooden tray with a plain white bowl steaming with a spoon parked next to it - soup, I assumed. My assumptions were confirmed when I saw a warm red liquid sloshing as the tray was settled on my lap.

“Tomato basil rice with veggies picked out, like I know you like it. How’s your chest?”

“Hurting like hell.” I joked, laughing as I took a brief break in eye contact to look at the healing scars. “As always.”

“‘Ey, but look on the bright side. You’re healing.” Albert cooed, pecking my lips before picking up the spoon. “Now, here comes the airplane.”

I chuckled before parting my lips to protest before being hushed.

“Don’t protest, you need to let your arms rest and worry about little things.”

“Little things?” I asked, letting out an amused puff of air through my nose. “Like putting on the Food Network?”

“Or takin’ clothes off and shit. Speaking of which…” Albert stated, parking the spoon in the soup before tugging the black shirt he wore before smiling.

“The hell did you do that for?” I asked, turning away to allow my cheeks to warm up.

“Because it didn’t seem fair for you to be the only one.” Albert replied, chuckling. “And it’s like that cancer support thing where people shave their heads.”

“Aw.” I whined.

“Now return your head to a position where I can see that smile of yours. You got soup that’s getting cold.”

“Can you put on Cutthroat Kitchen first?” I requested.

“Alright, fine.” Albert said, adding a playful annoyance before fiddling with a remote before pulling up the show I requested. “Now, here comes the train.”

“I thought it was an airplane.”

“Then here comes the goddamn airplane.” he said, letting out an annoyed puff of air before commencing his plan of feeding me the warm soup.


End file.
